


Life Goes On

by steelplatedhearts



Category: Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Multi, Rule 63, always-a-girl!Newt, always-a-girl!Tendo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-27
Updated: 2013-10-27
Packaged: 2017-12-30 14:38:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,489
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1019849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/steelplatedhearts/pseuds/steelplatedhearts
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“You work for the PPDC?”<br/>“Yeah,” the woman says, holding out a hand. “Newt Geiszler, doctor in K-Science.”<br/>“Tendo Choi, LOCCENT commander,” Tendo says, shaking her hand. “What the hell kind of name is Newt?”<br/>“It’s the one I picked,” Newt says with a grin. “It’s lovely to meet you, Tendo.”<br/>Then she doubles over and throws up on Tendo’s shoes.<br/>Tendo sighs, stubbing her cigarette out on the railing. “Those were my favorite shoes.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Life Goes On

Tendo Choi buys her first tube of lipstick at fifteen, learns how to put winged eyeliner on properly at sixteen, and masters pin-up hair at seventeen. She buys cute sundresses in plaid and polka dots along with rolled khaki pants and bowties. Kitten heels and combat boots find an equal place in her closet, and her hair spends more time up in a bandanna than in the braids of her childhood. Sometimes she dresses ultra-feminine, and sometimes she looks like she’s ready to roll around in the dirt. A few things remain constant, no matter what else she’s wearing—the lipstick and the eyeliner, for one, and the rosary wrapped around her left wrist.

When she joins the PPDC, she doesn’t alter her style to suit the mood. Just because the world is ending doesn’t mean she shouldn’t dress how she likes.

In fact, she thinks, the world ending might almost be more of an excuse. She might not be alive to get dressed the next day.

*   *   *   *   *  

She has a rule about Rangers, and the rule is _no_.

It’s a good, reliable rule, and brings her safely through more than one flirtation. She’ll dance with them, flirt with them, maybe kiss them, but that’s it—check your emotions at the door.

When Yancy Becket brings her coffee, she tells herself that she doesn’t feel anything other then the basic comradery she feels for everyone else in the shatterdome. When he takes her out dancing, she tells herself it’s just a dance, doesn’t have to be anything else. She’s danced with a lot of people, after all. When he kisses her in the hallway outside of LOCCENT on the way to the cafeteria, tasting faintly of toothpaste, she tells herself she’s not breaking her rule, it’s only a kiss.

She convinces herself that it’s just fun, nothing more, until she finds herself giving Yancy a kiss for luck on his way to fight a category three named Knifehead.

“See you after, yeah?” he asks with a warm smile.

“We can go dancing,” she says, hooking a finger into the chain of his dog tags and smirking. “That little place we went last week?”

“Yeah, maybe,” he shrugs, “but I was thinking we could stay in. Watch a movie or something—just relax.”

“Yeah,” Tendo says. “I’d like that.”

She stands up on her tiptoes to give him a quick kiss and then heads towards LOCCENT. Her smile fades as she navigates the halls until she’s sitting at her station with a cup of coffee and a frown.

Yancy is gorgeous, yeah, and a great dancer and better kisser, but there shouldn’t be any exceptions to her rule. No emotional attachments to Rangers—that’s how it works. She needs to end this before it gets worse.

She ignores the twist in her gut at the thought of no more Yancy, no more shyly delivered cups of coffee, no more stolen kisses in corners of the shatterdome, but puts the whole matter out of her mind, sternly telling herself to focus.

_You can deal with it later, Choi. Right now, Knifehead’s the problem._

*   *   *   *   *  

Yancy dies in the battle with Knifehead.

It’s upsetting, but sometimes these things happen. It’s why Tendo made up her rule, after all.

*   *   *   *   *  

Tendo meets Newt Geiszler in a club in Hong Kong.

She’s out in the back taking a smoke break, shivering slightly in the cold night air, when a small wiry woman explodes out of the door and dives behind the dumpster.

“If anyone asks, _I’m not here_ ,” she says, curling up and pressing herself into the wall. Her nose is bloody, her glasses are crooked, and her thick brown hair is disheveled, so Tendo nods.

Half a second later, a group of people bursts through the door. “Hey!” one woman says, seeing Tendo leaning against the railing. “You seen anyone run through here?”

“Nope,” Tendo says, taking another drag. “Sorry.”

The group grumbles a bit, but heads back inside anyway. Tendo takes a deep breath, counting to ten, then raises her voice. “They’re gone.”

“Thanks,” the woman says, stumbling out of her hiding place. “Seems like I can’t go anywhere without getting into trouble these days.”

“Why were they after you?” Tendo asks.

The woman smiles oddly, mouth twisted, and pushes back her sleeves to reveal intricate tattoos.

“That’s Yamarashi,” Tendo says, flicking the ashes off the end of her cigarette. “And Knifehead. You’re one of those cultists, aren’t you?”

“Am not,” the woman says, offended. “I’m a _scientist_. I work with the PPDC. Just because I think the Kaiju are _interesting_ hardly makes me a _cultist_.”

“You work for the PPDC?”

“Yeah,” the woman says, holding out a hand. “Newt Geiszler, doctor in K-Science.”

“Tendo Choi, LOCCENT commander,” Tendo says, shaking her hand. “What the hell kind of name is Newt?”

“It’s the one I picked,” Newt says with a grin. “It’s lovely to meet you, Tendo.”

Then she doubles over and throws up on Tendo’s shoes.

Tendo sighs, stubbing her cigarette out on the railing. “Those were my favorite shoes.”

*   *   *   *   *  

Two days later, she comes back from her lunch break to find Newt perched on her desk, a plain brown box sitting on her lap. Her messy hair is being held up with what seems like a fork, and she has a wide grin on her face.

“Afternoon!” she chirps. “I got you some shoes.”

“Thank you,” Tendo says, bemused, taking the box.

“No big,” Newt says, shrugging. “If you’d horked all over my Doc Martens, I’d expect _you_ to replace them. I didn’t exactly remember what yours looked like, but I did my best.”

They turn out to be a pair of platform block boots, black, with white polka dots. They’re not quite her style, but they’re still cute.

“You seemed like a polka dot person,” Newt says, looking up at her. “I mean, obviously you can return them if you want, but—”

“They’re great,” Tendo says with a smile. “You were right, I am a polka dot person.”

Newt’s face breaks out into a smile. “Awesome! Listen, I was wondering—are you doing anything tonight?”

“No,” Tendo says, raising an eyebrow. “You have something in mind?”

“Yeah,” Newt says. “I wanted to ask you out for drinks after work.”

Tendo turns the shoes over in her hands. “I think I could manage drinks. As long as you promise not to throw up on me again.”

Newt’s smile grows. “Yes ma’am!”

*   *   *   *   *  

Tendo wanders down one of the hallways in the science division after she leaves LOCCENT, finding nothing but empty labs and dark rooms, until she pokes her head through the door to lab 3 and narrowly misses being hit with a glass beaker. Newt appears to be the one who threw it, and she’s standing in the middle of the room with another beaker in her hand, ready to throw.

“Tendo!” she says, eyes brightening as she drops the beaker, ignoring the snarl from the room’s other occupant, a thin man with a death grip on a cane. “Thank god. Look, Hermann, I have a date! So you can stay locked up in here, but I’m leaving.”

“Oh _really?_ ” Hermann asks disdainfully. “How the hell did you convince someone to go on a date with you?”

“I hid her from an angry mob and she threw up on my shoes,” Tendo says dryly. “You know. The usual rom-com meet cute.”

“How did the new ones fit, by the way?” Newt asks.

“Perfectly,” Tendo says. “Which is a little creepy, really.”

“I swear I didn’t stalk you,” Newt says, putting her hand over her heart. “Scout’s honor, it was a total guess.”

“Scout’s honor,” Hermann snorts. “What kind of scouting organization would _take you_ , pray tell?”

“The Girl Scouts of _fuck you_ ,” Newt fires back, grabbing Tendo’s elbow and dragging her out of the lab. “Christ, I can’t stand him.”

“How’d you end up sharing a lab?” Tendo asks, trotting to keep up with Newt’s long strides.

“Luck of the draw, I guess,” Newt says. “You know he keeps sending in complaints about me? Nobody ever does anything with them, I don’t even think anyone _reads_ them, but _still_. It’s the principle of the thing.” She huffs, flicking a strand of hair out of her face. “Anyway, no need to talk about Hermann. Shall we head out?”

Tendo takes the proffered arm, smiling. “We shall.”

*   *   *   *   *  

They end up at some tiny bar halfway across the city. It’s not as high-energy as the club where they met, but it’s got plenty of booze, which is all you really need.

As they enter, they get more than a few glares, but Newt either ignores them or doesn’t notice them. They get their drinks and the bartender moves away, heading down the row of people waiting.

“So,” Newt says, turning to her. “You work in LOCCENT, you’re stunning, what’s your deal?”

Tendo raises an eyebrow. “My deal?”

“Yeah,” Newt says, taking a sip. “Unless you plan on mind-melding to get the awkward getting-to-know-you part out of the way—” She pauses, considering. “Well, shit, you know, that could actually work. We have the technology.”

“I can just tell you my deal,” Tendo says, faintly alarmed. “Talking works.”

Newt gives her a very self-satisfied smile. “Excellent. Where are you from?”

“I was born in Beijing,” Tendo says. “I moved to San Francisco as a kid, and spent most of my time going back and forth between those two cities and Hong Kong. I did grunt work, mostly—worked on the ferries, did odd jobs.”

“Which city did you like better?”

Tendo doesn’t even have to think about it. “San Francisco. Definitely.”

“How come?”

“Happier memories in San Francisco.”

“Fair enough,” Newt says, looking thoughtful.

“How about you?” Tendo asks.

“I’m from Berlin. Lived there most of my life, then went to MIT to get my doctorates, and taught for a while.”

“I’m sorry—doctorates, plural?” Tendo asks, raising an eyebrow. “How many do you even have?”

“Six,” Newt says.

Tendo whistles. “Damn. And here I thought my high score in Tetris was impressive.”

“I’m sure it’s _very_ impressive,” Newt says. “I can play for about five minutes before I get distracted.”

Tendo laughs.

“Two questions,” Newt says, leaning forward. “The fate of this date rests on your answers.”

“Sounds serious,” Tendo says, keeping a straight face. “I’ll do my best.”

“Question one,” Newt says, holding up a finger. “Favorite movie?”

“Casablanca,” Tendo says.

And question two: favorite kind of music?”

“The Elvis kind.”

“Those answers are acceptable,” Newt says grandiosely as she leans back in her chair.

“What would your answers be?” Tendo asks with a smirk. “The fate of the date rests on your answers.”

“Ha,” Newt says dryly. “Sharktopus and Britney Spears.”

Tendo stares for a moment, then bursts out laughing. “Sharktopus and Britney Spears? Oh my _god_.”

“Give me glossy pop music any day,” Newt says with a grin. “Culture is for the weak.”

Newt has a propensity for shitty monster movies, Tendo finds out. She got her first tattoo when she was sixteen and doubts that she’ll ever start to regret it. She reads a lot of comics and watches a lot of cartoons, especially the ones she missed out on when she was getting her doctorates.

She’s smart, she’s funny, and Tendo greatly enjoys herself. It’s a pretty fantastic date, on the whole—at least, it’s fantastic until Tendo comes back from the bathroom and finds Newt surrounded by a circle of bar patrons.

“These assholes bothering you?” Tendo asks, slipping into the circle to stand at Newt’s side.

“As if,” Newt says, looking supremely unconcerned. “It takes a lot more than that to bother me.”

“We were just telling your friend she’s not welcome here,” a looming man says to Tendo.

“We just wanted some drinks,” Tendo says, trying to placate the man. “We didn’t mean to cause any trouble.”

“She knows she’s not supposed to be here.”

Tendo wrinkles her nose in confusion. “Excuse me?”

“She’s a goddamn cultist, and we don’t want her here,” the man growls.

 “I have a right to be here,” Newt says, knuckles going white around her glass. You don’t own the goddamn bar.”

Tendo takes a deep breath, and considers her options. There’s not enough room for a brawl, and she has a knife in her pocket, but she’d like to avoid bloodshed.

“Come on, Newt,” she says, grabbing the smaller woman’s hand. “Let’s just go.”

“I’ll be back,” Newt yells as Tendo leads her to the door. “This isn’t over!”

They walk quietly down the Hong Kong streets “So,” Tendo says finally. “They’re not your biggest fans, huh?”

“They’re on me every single time I go there,” Newt huffs. “It’s completely ridiculous. I’m sorry, I should have warned you.”

“Every single time—how often do you go there?”

“All the time,” Newt says with a shrug. “It’s a great bar, even if there’s someone willing to punch me in the face every time I show up.”

“Then why do you keep going back?” Tendo asks, exasperated.

“Because fuck those assholes, that’s why.”

They walk in silence for a moment. “That’s really stupid,” Tendo says finally.

Newt immediately tenses up. “It’s not _stupid_ ,” she snaps.

“Repeatedly going to a place where people are waiting to break your nose isn’t the smartest idea,” Tendo says, taken aback by Newt’s vitriol.

“That doesn’t make it _stupid_ ,” Newt says, spitting out the word like it’s poisonous.

“I’m sorry,” Tendo says quietly. “It’s not stupid.”

“And I’m not either,” Newt says, folding her arms.

Tendo sighs, then loops an arm around Newt’s shoulder. “You’ve got six doctorates and the most well-equipped lab in the shatterdome. You could never be stupid.” Newt relaxes slightly, but still says nothing. “At least try and keep your face in one piece, if you can. It’s a cute face.”

Newt smirks, leaning in. “Can do, Bettie Page.”

*   *   *   *   *  

Tendo ships out to the Lima shatterdome a week later. There’s some kind of issue with Matador Fury, and she’s got maintenance to take care of.

Newt calls on the third day, after Tendo’s stumbled into her quarters. “Morning, dollface!” Newt says, flickering into life.

“Evening,” Tendo says, taking her hair out of its pins. “What can I do for you?”

“We’re going to watch a movie,” Newt says. “I’ve decided you don’t get to mock Sharktopus until you’ve seen it.”

Tendo groans. “And who says I want to watch Sharktopus?”

“I do,” Newt says firmly. “Now come on, I’ve got a link up, we can have it open in separate windows, and I have booze!”

“Isn’t it like eleven in the morning over there?”

“ _Yes_ ,” Hermann says, coming into frame. “She has _work to do_.”

“Hi, Hermann,” Tendo says.

“I’ll put headphones in,” Newt says, pushing Hermann lightly. “Come on, this is the optimal time difference.”

“I’ll do it,” Tendo says. “But I have one condition: next week, we watch Gone With the Wind.”

Newt pouts. “Fine. Start it up.”

The movie is just as terrible as Tendo had thought it would be. But watching Newt defend the questionable science and terrible graphics while constantly waving a scalpel in the air makes it worth it.

*   *   *   *   *  

Once she’s back in Hong Kong, Tendo comes to the realization that while Newt likes her, Hermann resolutely doesn’t.

Normally, Tendo would be perfectly content to let Hermann dislike her— _those that don’t like me can leave me alone_ , as the saying goes—but she feels like she owes it to Newt to try to get along with her platonic life partner.

She’s down in the lab working on some paperwork one day, and Newt’s bouncing off the walls, practically vibrating with energy.  Tendo’s already had to dodge three pieces of chalk, and Newt’s long since lapsed into German.

“Newt,” she says gently, “you want to take a lap?”

It’s a code they’ve developed—on days when Newt is bristling with energy, when she can’t focus and her brain is running a million miles an hour, Tendo gives her an out, lets her know that she’s going over the edge. What Newt does with that signal is up to her. Sometimes she goes for a run around the compound and sometimes she heads to the in-house gym.

Very occasionally, she’ll go pick a fight with a Ranger.

Today, Newt simply nods and takes off, her footsteps echoing into the distance, leaving Tendo and Hermann alone. Tendo waits five minutes, counting down, before she casually says, “You don’t like me.”

Hermann doesn’t even blink. “Not particularly.”

“So what’s the deal?”

He glances sideways at her. “I hear things.”

“What do you hear?”

“You’re dangerous.”

She smirks. “We’re all a little dangerous these days.”

“You were responsible for our more _questionable_ funding,” he counters.

“I sure am,” she says. “What’s next?”

“Nothing’s next.”

She raises her eyebrows at that. “Two little bits of info, that’s all you’ve heard?”

“I’ve heard plenty more,” he says. “I just don’t see how any of it’s relevant to the situation.”

“So this isn’t a judgment about how I fuck around with Rangers?”

“No.”

“Because I don’t do that any more.”

“Well, it’s none of my business,” Hermann says. 

“Normally that’s what people have a problem with,” Tendo says.

“My problem is that Newt has enough of a propensity to get into trouble without your help,” Hermann says.

“The kind of trouble I get into isn’t the sort of thing that’ll mess up anyone else,” Tendo says, crossing her arms. “So you can stop being a dick.”

Hermann rolls his eyes, but relaxes slightly, which is the best that Tendo can expect.

*   *   *   *   *  

They carefully dance around the Kaiju discussion, but it’s not the sort of thing that can be avoided forever.

Ceramander attacks Hawaii, and Newt acts like a kid at Christmas when the samples are delivered to her lab.

“How great is this?” she asks nobody in particular, unpacking the sample crates. “I mean, it’s a shame it’s dead, can you imagine getting to examine a _live specimen_ , but it’ll have to do—”

“Newt,” Tendo says, cutting through her babbling, “you’re aware that about thirty thousand people _died_ , right?”

Newt stares at her like a deer caught in the headlights. “…Yeah, and?”

“ _And?”_ Tendo asks incredulously. “It’s a huge tragedy! You wanna show some respect?”

“What, should I be wailing around the lab and cursing Ceramander to the high heavens?” Newt snaps. “It’s not bringing anybody back, Tendo. They’re dead whether or not I decide to enjoy my work.”

“Enjoy your work, fine, but you don’t have to be so damn happy about it,” Tendo growls. “It’s like you don’t even care.”

“I don’t care that thousands of people I’ve never met are dead?” Newt yells, slamming down her box cutter. “Wow, I guess that makes me a fucking terrible person, doesn’t it? Excuse me for not having the energy to mourn over strangers!”

“I’m not asking you to mourn!” Tendo yells. “I’m asking you to have a little basic human decency—”

“By doing _what,_ exactly?” Newt shouts, face red. “Do I have to qualify every Kaiju-related statement I make with ‘oh, but these guys are really terrible,’ or ‘but don’t forget that they kill’?”

“Or, you know, at the very least, not get them tattooed all over yourself,” Tendo snaps. “That just seems _stupid_.”

“Oh, _fuck you_ ,” Newt says, incensed. “You don’t know _anything_ —”

“I know enough,” Tendo hisses. “I know you don’t give a shit about anyone else.”

She turns and storms out.

*   *   *   *   *  

They do not speak for a week.

It’s an uncomfortable week, and Tendo finds herself floating, at loose ends. She spends more and more time up in LOCCENT, and she hears rumors from the grapevine that Newt hasn’t left her lab in days.

Eventually, she’s had enough. “Newt,” she says, marching into the lab. “We need to talk.”

Hermann beats a hasty retreat as Tendo sits down. “Fine,” Newt says coolly, examining her specimen. “So talk.”

Tendo takes a deep breath. “I know what my opinion is on this. And I know yours. But it’s safe to say that I don’t really understand it.”

Newt stays silent.

“I just—I want to understand,” Tendo says wearily. “Any tips would be greatly appreciated.”

“You know why I got the first tattoo?” Newt says suddenly.

Tendo shakes her head.

“It’s Trespasser,” Newt says, not looking at Tendo. “It took them six days to bring him down.”

“I know,” Tendo says. “I was _there_.”

“He was strong,” Newt says. “They’re all strong, and powerful, and utterly fantastic.” She looks down, tracing Yamarashi’s outline. “Everyone hates them, but they don’t care. And now, neither do I. Now, I’m strong too.”

“You can be strong without tattoos,” Tendo starts to say, but Newt cuts her off.

“You don’t see me knocking _your_ defenses,” she says, lips pressed together.

“ _My_ defenses?”

“Your emotional constipation. Your rosary. Your coffee addiction,” Newt says, counting off on her fingers.

“But that stuff doesn’t hurt anyone,” Tendo says.

“The tattoos don’t hurt anyone either,” Newt says, folding her arms. “Neither does me getting excited about my work.”

“It hurts people when you rub it in their faces,” Tendo says. “When people who’ve lost loved ones have to see it. You’ve got to look at it from their perspective—to them, it looks like you’re celebrating the thing that killed their friends and family.”

“I’m not rubbing it in anyone’s face,” Newt says bitterly. “I’m just trying to exist.”

“Maybe try to think before you speak?” Tendo says gingerly. “I’m not saying don’t be you, but don’t just blurt out your Kaiju appreciation to everyone?”

“I’ll consider it,” Newt says, staring into her microscope. She sighs, and pushes it away to look up. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry I yelled at you.”

“I’m sorry I yelled at you too,” Tendo says.

It’s not a comprehensive list of all the ways they both fucked up, but it’s enough.

“We good?” Newt asks, trying to play it cool.

Tendo knows better. “We’re good,” she says, planting a kiss on Newt’s forehead. “See you at dinner?”

“I’ll be there,” Newt says, smiling slightly.

*   *   *   *   *  

 “There’s probably life out there,” Newt says, gazing at the stars.

They’re perched on the shatterdome roof with a few thermoses of hot chocolate, wrapped in blankets and looking out over the ocean. Newt’s stolen one of Hermann’s oversized jackets, and when she has the hood up, all Tendo can see is the glint of lights shining off her glasses.

“If there is, I don’t want to know about it,” Tendo says, taking another sip of hot chocolate.

“What? No, Tendo, think about it!” Newt says, pushing the hood back. “There could be millions of different life forms out there, just waiting to be discovered, and I’m sure they don’t _all_ want to kill us!”

Tendo snorts. “That’s reassuring.”

“Come on!” Newt says, bouncing slightly. “We have proof that life exists outside of us! Think of the things we could _learn_!”

“We can only learn things when we’re not being exterminated,” Tendo says.

Newt pouts. “Okay, the Kaiju aren’t exactly earth’s fairy godmothers, but we’re already learning so much! They have a silicone-based DNA, did you know that? There’s just so much _potential_ here!”

“Hooray,” Tendo says dryly. “More potential to be eaten.”

Newt rolls her eyes and shoves Tendo lightly. “You _luddite_.”

She looks so comically infuriated that Tendo has to laugh. “Okay, okay, tell me about what we can learn.”

Newt flops onto her back, dragging the blankets (and, by extension, Tendo) down with her. She stares at the stars and talks about the chemical makeup of the Kaiju, their DNA, their drive, and their instincts, and Tendo watches her talk animatedly, hair lit by the moonlight, and decides that this is the happiest she’s ever been.

*   *   *   *   *  

 “You should take me out dancing,” Newt says one Friday, perching on Tendo’s desk.

Tendo blinks. “What?”

“You should take me out dancing,” Newt repeats. “You’re leaving for Alaska in three days, you’re going to be there for _ages_ , and dancing would be a nice send off. You in?”

“Depends,” Tendo drawls, leaning back in her seat. “You going to wear something nicer than your usual uniform?”

“We can’t all be fashion models,” Newt says, rolling her eyes at Tendo’s perfectly pleated dress. “I’ll wear what I wear. You coming or not?”

Tendo turns back to the console, smirking. “Yeah, I’m coming. I could use a night out.”

Newt meets her outside the shatterdome in her usual outfit: white collared shirt, black pants, and a skinny black tie. She takes one look at Tendo and snorts.

“How many dresses do you even have, dude?”

“One for every occasion,” Tendo says, giving Newt a mocking curtsey.

They go to the club where they first met, and meld right into the darkness of the crowd. Newt can’t dance, that much is readily apparent, so Tendo takes her hands and guides her so she’s moving vaguely with the beat and not accidentally elbowing people. Eventually, Newt just flings her arms around Tendo’s neck and they just sway in the middle of the crowd, ignoring the people that swirl around them.

“You going to miss me when you’re up in Alaska?” she says, right in Tendo’s ear.

“You know it,” Tendo says.

“I love you a lot, you know,” Newt mumbles.

Tendo feels warm, far warmer than reasonable. “Yeah?” she says, grinning. “I love you a lot too.”

Newt doesn’t say anything in response, just holds her a little tighter, and they stay there hanging onto each other until the lights go on and the club shuts down for the night.

*   *   *   *   *  

Newt meets Tendo at the plane the morning she flies to Alaska. “It’s gonna be cold as shit,” Newt says, handing her a lumpy sweater. “Stay warm!”

“Is this Hermann’s?” Tendo says, examining the sweater.

Newt shrugs. “He won’t mind.”

“Try and stay out of trouble,” Tendo says, hugging the smaller woman. “Or at least stay in one piece.”

“Can do,” Newt says, mock saluting. “Don’t forget about me with all the cute people available in Alaska.”

“Never,” Tendo says, bending down for a kiss.

*   *   *   *   *  

Life goes on when Tendo’s in Alaska.

She works hard during they day, and calls Newt at night. More often than not, Hermann’s there too, telling Tendo all the ways in which Newt’s annoying him that day, and asking if she can please do something about it?

She never can, of course, but that doesn’t stop Hermann from asking.

They watch movies on weekends, alternating between Newt’s favorites and Tendo’s favorites. Newt usually manages to come up with popcorn from somewhere, and Tendo grazes on some crackers. It’s not the same as movie night when they were both in Hong Kong, where Newt would drape herself over Tendo and yell at the characters directly in her ear, but it’s at least an acceptable substitute.

Tendo misses Newt fiercely and quietly. Newt is far more vocal about it.

“I miss youuuuuu,” she groans. “It’s so goddamn boring without you.”

“Go make some friends,” Tendo says, taking a makeup wipe to her eyes.

Newt snorts. “Right, because so many people are willing to put up with me.”

“I was willing to put up with you,” Tendo points out.

“And believe me, I appreciate it,” Newt says, leaning forward and kissing her screen. “I gotta go, I have a meeting with the suits. I love you!”

“Love you too, darling.”

*   *   *   *   *  

It’s not exactly a surprise when their funding is cut, but it still pisses Tendo off.

“Do we have a plan, sir?” she asks Stacker as she and Herc fall into step behind him.

“We will,” Stacker says, striding ahead. “Prepare to ship out to Hong Kong.”

*   *   *   *   *  

Newt greets Tendo at the door when she arrives in Hong Kong from the closed Alaska base. “Is it true?”

“Is what true?” Tendo asks wearily, handing one of her bags off to Newt.  
“I heard they cut our funding,” Newt says angrily, taking the bag and falling into step. “Is it true?”

Tendo is tired, so tired. “Yeah.”

Newt makes some sort of noise halfway between a squeak and a growl. “How _could they_? The anti-Kaiju wall is _shit_ , everyone knows that! Even Hermann agrees with me on this one, and he’d say the sky was purple if I said it was blue!”

Tendo sighs. “I know. But what can we do?”

Newt throws open the door to her quarters, tossing Tendo’s bag on the bed. “I don’t _know_ ,” she growls in frustration, flinging herself on the bed as well. “That’s your job, right? Funding?”

“Not anymore,” Tendo says, lying down next to Newt. “We cut ties with that source years ago.” She sighs, linking fingers with the woman next to her. “I missed you.”

Newt gives her a slight smile and leans over, pressing their foreheads together. “I missed you too.”

They both have things to be doing, work to accomplish, but neither of them move. Their breath slows, evens out, until they’re breathing in synch.  It’s been a long time since Tendo has been able to see Newt outside of a video screen, so she keeps her eyes open long after Newt’s drift shut, studying Newt’s long, thin nose, her wide mouth, her hair in its usual state of disarray. She traces the tattoos on Newt’s wrist with her fingertip, following the inked Kaiju’s trail.

“We should get you one,” Newt says, and Tendo’s eyes flick up to meet Newt’s. “Matching Kaiju tats. How cool would that be?”

“Not cool at all,” Tendo says softly. “Why would I want something that’s killed so many people I care about marked permanently on my body?”

Newt falls silent, and Tendo turns her gaze back to Newt’s arm, where Knifehead stares back up at her. “I suppose that’s the difference,” Newt says reluctantly, as if the words are being forcibly dragged out of her. “You lost people. I didn’t.”

“We’ve all lost people, Newt,” Tendo says. “The whole world’s lost out. Everyone just reacts differently.”

“It this your way of telling me that I react like a terrible person?”

“No,” Tendo says. “Just different.”

Newt smiles. “I knew I kept you around for a reason.”

There’s a knock at the door, and Newt bounces up to answer it. “Hey, Marshall.”

“Good afternoon, Dr. Geiszler,” Stacker says, entering the room. “Is Commander Choi here?”

“Right here, sir,” Tendo says, sitting up.

“We have a plan to restore our funding,” he says without preamble. “We need you to handle the negotiations.”

Tendo’s heart sinks. If they want her to handle the negotiations, there’s only one person they can be negotiating with.

“Yes sir,” she says quietly, squeezing Newt’s hand as she follows Stacker out the door.”

*   *   *   *   *  

She borrows an umbrella from Mako and sets out alone, turning down all of Stacker’s offers of guards to accompany her. Things have changed since she lived here, but not all that much, and muscle memory takes her to the same storefront she’d frequented years ago.

She doesn’t let the man at the counter start his spiel—she just cuts him off and says, “I’d like to see Hannibal Chau.” A man by the door casually reaches over and clicks the lock shut, and it takes every ounce of willpower she has not to grab her switchblade and fight her way out.

She’s ushered into a side room, given a quick pat down, and told to wait. She sinks into a chair and wishes they hadn’t taken her knife.

She was never scared of Hannibal Chau, even though she really should have been. Back in the day when she was one of “Chau’s Girls,” one of the enforcers that worked to build up Chau’s power by slitting throats and sending messages, she had been too young to be scared. She was a kid, and she thought she was invincible.

When she got older, she realized how scared she should have been, but was never able to muster up the energy. She had distance, and time, and could only manage wearied gratitude that she’d gotten out.

She’d only seen Hannibal once since then, and it was not one on one. She was there as Stacker’s assistant, a silent shadow at his elbow. He made all the deals, she merely passed him suggestions written on sticky notes.

Now, however, she’s alone in Hannibal’s opulent office, and she’s remembering just how deadly he can be.

He enters the room abruptly, slamming the door. “Good afternoon, Miss Choi. It’s been a long time.”

She doesn’t stand. “Indeed it has.”

He crosses the room and settles behind his desk, setting her switchblade in front of him. “Cute blade. What’s it for, peeling apples?”

She smirks. “That’s a bit rich coming from you. You still carrying around that shitty little balisong?”

“I wouldn’t want anything else.” He leans back in his chair and stares her down. “What do you want?”

“The feds cut our funding,” she says. “We’ve got an offer for you.”

He doesn’t say anything, which could be either a good sign or a terrible one.

“You fund our operation, provide us with enough Kaiju parts for the labs to study, and in return, you get first run at all Kaiju carcasses and full rights to their parts. There’s no government involvement this time around—if you agree, it’s solely between you and Marshall Pentecost.”

He tilts his head, smirking at her. “Under the table, huh? I assume that’s why they sent a scrappy little criminal to do the negotiating.”

Tendo forces herself to smile. “Precisely.”

Hannibal picks up her switchblade again, turning it over and over. “What if I refuse?”

It’s not a question he really wants an answer to, so Tendo stays silent.

“What if I just kill you now?” Hannibal drawls. “The Jaeger program loses its funding, the Wall of Life goes up, the Kaiju keep coming, and I get richer.”

“The Kaiju keep coming, you get richer, and then you _die_ ,” Tendo points out.

“True,” he acknowledges, “but it’s better to die rich than to go out of business.” He grins, leaning forward and pinching her cheek. She does not flinch, but it’s a close call. “Tell you what, kiddo—I like you. You were a good employee. Tell your Marshall he’s got a deal.”

When Tendo finally leaves, Hannibal doesn’t give her the knife back, and she maintains a white-knuckled grip on Mako’s umbrella for the entire walk back to the shatterdome.

*   *   *   *   *  

She throws herself into Danger’s restoration with Mako. There isn’t a whole lot left to do, but she runs through the code day after day, poring over the lines and tightening up the commands, just in case.

Looking at her now, you’d never notice that her arm had been torn off, or a hole had been ripped in her heart. But that’s how it is with most things, Tendo thinks. They heal. You don’t notice the scars after a while.

Raleigh’s set to arrive on the third—that is, if he agrees to come—and Tendo would be lying if she said she wasn’t constantly looking at the calendar.

“I don’t get what you’re so nervous about,” Newt says when Tendo tells her about it. Tendo has her head in Newt’s lap and is staring up at the Rubik’s cube that Newt’s fiddling with.

“I haven’t spoken to him since his brother died,” Tendo says, watching the squares click around the cube.

“Well, it’s not like you personally killed him,” Newt says, chewing on her lip. “No big.”

“I put him in the Jaeger,” Tendo says, eyes losing their focus. “I oversaw the mission, I was monitoring the Kaiju—”

Newt sighs, putting down the Rubik’s cube. “Look, Ten,” she says, running her fingers through Tendo’s hair. “We’re living in a B-list monster movie with Z-list actors.”

“You think I’m Z-list?” Tendo asks, raising an eyebrow.

“Honey, if we were an A-list cast, you’d have a cute Ranger boyfriend and I’d have a normal brain,” Newt says. “But we’re Z-list actors in a second rate horror film. Yancy’s death wasn’t your fault—you’re just an actor. If we should be blaming anyone, it’s the screenwriter.”

Tendo fiddles with the beads wrapped around her wrist. “Are you saying we should blame God?”

Newt shrugs. “I’m just saying we shouldn’t blame you. And Raleigh will know that.”

*   *   *   *   *  

She’s doing some routine maintenance on the LOCCENT control panel when her phone buzzes.

_MET THE DUDE. I DON’T LIKE HIM._

Tendo snorts and texts back. _Why not?_

The answer is quick, as if Newt had been waiting by the phone. _HE’S A STUPID DUMB GRUNT WHO JUST WANTS TO BLOW THINGS UP. V. RUDE._

_And I bet you were a model of good behavior._

The response takes much longer this time. _I WAS A PERFECT ANGEL._

 _Liar_.

She tucks her phone back into her pocket and heads off towards Danger in search of Raleigh.

She’s debated a million different ways to approach Raleigh, and discarded all of them. The best plan is to focus on Danger and hope for the best.

She sees Raleigh and Mako staring up at the Jaeger, and calls out before she loses her nerve. “How do you like your ride, Becket boy?” Raleigh turns, and his face breaks out into a smile. “Solid iron hull, no alloys,” she continues as she approaches. “Forty acres of blades muscle span and a new fluid synapse system.”

Raleigh sweeps her up into a hug, lifting her heels off the floor. “It’s good to see you, Tendo,” he says. “It’s been too long.”

“That it has, brother, that it has.”

They exchange a few minor pleasantries, and Mako leads him away, presumably to the Kwoon or to his room. “We’ll talk later, okay?” he says, looking over his shoulder, and she nods.

“Definitely,” she grins, and when he’s out of sight, she grabs her phone again.

_He doesn’t hate me, at least!_

The answer is almost instantaneous. _Who could hate you?_

*   *   *   *   *  

Mako is selected to be Raleigh’s copilot. She’ll be good for him, Tendo thinks, and he for her.

Stacker stands behind her in LOCCENT, proud and tall, overseeing Mako’s first real drift, when Hermann comes running through the door.

“Marshall! Marshall, I need to talk to you—”

“Not now, Dr. Gottlieb,” Stacker says, while Tendo contemplates texting Newt and asking _what the hell did you do?_ “I’m sure you can appreciate how important this moment is to me.”

Hermann stops running, plants his feet, and draws his shoulders back. “Newt created a neural bridge from garbage and drifted with the Kaiju,” he says, voice even.

“She did _what_?” Tendo says, choking slightly on her coffee as she whips her head around. “Jesus _Christ—”_

“Commander Choi, continue with the test,” Stacker says, somehow still calm. “I will return momentarily.”

He stalks off, Hermann in his wake, and Tendo makes a mental note to ask Newt what exactly she was thinking later.

The test proceeds as normal, until Raleigh and Mako both jolt out of alignment.  
“I’m fine,” Raleigh says. “Just give me a minute.”

Tendo tried very hard not to think about what could have caused Raleigh to slip.

He recovers, but Mako goes far out of alignment, too far, and the plasma cannons power up, despite the fact that Tendo had switched them off for the test.

Tendo’s hands fly over the controls, but nothing responds. She wants so badly to panic, wants to sit down and put her head between her knees and cry, but there’s a whole office of innocents under her control.

She orders everyone out, and Chuck Hansen helps her pull the plug right when Stacker rushes back in, yelling to them to cut the power.

“Would you like to try again?” the AI asks, and Tendo leans against her desk.

 _No, thank you_.

*   *   *   *   *  

Things move very quickly after that.

There’s a double event, both category fours, and everyone snaps right into crisis mode. The Kaiju are bigger and faster, with acids and electrical shorts. They lose Crimson and Cherno in rapid succession, and Striker goes dark.

The test had been a catastrophe, but they aren’t left with a lot of options. Danger is deployed, with Mako and Raleigh at the helm, and Tendo runs through her rosary, just in case.

They pour outside to watch the skies once Otachi flies into the air with Dancer,, because all of their instruments and technology can’t comfort when they’re just adding an extra layer between LOCCENT and Danger.

She lands safely, and Tendo laughs in relief.

 “Find Doctor Geiszler, now,” Stacker says, and Hermann salutes and scurries off.

“Where is Newt, anyway?” Tendo asks, glancing back towards the crowd.

Stacker doesn’t look at her. “Somewhere in the Boneslums, I assume. She went down to make a deal for a Kaiju brain.”

Tendo’s heart drops. “You— _you sent her to Chau_?”

“She’s a big girl, Commander Choi,” Stacker says, striding away. “She can look after herself.”

This is intellectually something Tendo knows to be true. Newt is small and scrawny, but she’s a surprisingly strong fighter. She has to be, to avoid getting jumped every time she pisses someone off, which is often.

But emotionally, there’s a rising panic that Tendo can’t stuff down. Newt has a big mouth, and Hannibal has a tendency to shoot people that piss him off. She wants to bolt out of the shatterdome, run through the streets, and drag Newt back to the safety of the lab.

But she is a professional. So she follows Stacker inside and rolls up her sleeves, heading back to LOCCENT. She has Jaegers to fix.

*   *   *   *   *  

She throws herself into the work, into the reboots and the tune-ups and the deployments, but she doesn’t fully relax until she hears a familiar voice screech, “ _Move, you fascist!”_

Newt looks like shit. Her left eye is totally bloodshot, she has what looks like a tampon stuffed up her nose, and one of her lenses is cracked. But she’s hip-checking Herc out of the way with little effort, babbling at a hundred miles an hour about the breach, and she’s _alive_ , so Tendo lets out a breath that she feels like she’s been holding for years.

They don’t talk, don’t even exchange glances—their friends are dying, and this is no time to be sentimental. But as they’re huddled around her station, eyes fixed on the dots swirling around on the screen, Tendo feels a small hand come to rest on her shoulder.

Danger plunges through the breach, taking Mako and Raleigh with her. Tendo collapses back into her chair and sighs, rubbing the bridge of her nose. LOCCENT is deathly silent, save for the crackling staticky messages coming through from Raleigh.

He gives Mako his oxygen, and Tendo closes her eyes and curses the self-sacrificial nature of Becket boys.

One pod is launched, then, after what seems like an eternity, another. The world shrinks until Raleigh’s vitals and Newt’s hand on her back are the only things she’s aware of. _Not again, please, not again_.

She tries to talk Mako down, provide reassurance that she doesn’t feel, when Raleigh’s voice comes through the speaker. “You’re squeezing me too tight,” he says, and Tendo lets out a shaky breath and resolutely keeps herself sitting straight up.

“This is Marshall Hercules Hansen,” Herc says, leaning over Tendo’s shoulder to access the microphone. “Stop the clock!”

Newt whoops, launching herself into the air and enveloping Hermann in a hug. LOCCENT erupts into cheers, and Tendo is swept up in a tide of handshakes, backslaps, and hugs.

She eventually finds Newt, who throws her arms around Tendo’s neck and kisses her like the world is still on track to end. “Kaiju science. Saved the world,” she murmurs as she breaks away for air. “Told you.”

Tendo laughs shakily, holding Newt tighter. “Heard you drifted with a Kaiju.”

“Yeah, and it was cool as hell.” Newt pulls back, drawing a knife out of her shirt pocket. “I found your switchblade, by the way. Hannibal Chau stuck it into baby Otachi’s nose. Then it ate him. It was the coolest thing I’ve ever seen and I nearly pissed myself.”

Tendo takes the knife, slipping it into her pocket. “Baby Otachi?”

“Otachi was _pregnant!_ ” Newt says, eyes lighting up. “It was so amazing—”

“How many times did you almost die?” Tendo asks, raising an eyebrow.

Newt grimaces, tilting her head slightly. “There was the thing in the shelter, and Hannibal stuck a knife up my nose, and almost shot me, and baby Otachi attacked us _twice_ , and then there was the drift with Hermann—” She breaks off, running her fingers through her hair. “It doesn’t matter. I’m alive now, yeah?”

Tendo smiles, pulling her in for another kiss. “Yeah,” she murmurs, brushing Newt’s bangs out of her face. “You are.”

 


End file.
